


Save a Dance for Me

by Justice Order (Axivalice)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 2nd chapter will be timeskip/features main story spoilers for Blue Lions, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, attempted androgynous writing so hopefully you can imagine either byleth in this scenario, i bet there are 200 of these fics by now but adds mine to the pile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 07:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axivalice/pseuds/Justice%20Order
Summary: Dimitri teaches Byleth how to dance before the White Heron Ball.Written for either Byleth genders.Spoilers for Blue Lions route (due to timeskip) on second chapter.





	Save a Dance for Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krimchii](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Krimchii).

"Dimitri, are you asleep?"

The soft knock on his door is so quiet, he almost misses it. In the dead of the night, it startles him, in his haze of old apparitions and flashes of scattered memory.

It's late. Felix would be asleep or training. It's too early for Sylvain to be back from his nightly ventures. Dedue doesn't knock this gently, the floorboards creak just a little when he's before the door.

He's up on his feet faster than he can think, his mind racing at the possibilities. The monastery hasn't felt safe in awhile, not with the shadows playing tricks and the Death Knight still on the loose. The steel lance is cold in his palm when he warily cracks his door open, and his glare is none too friendly at his impending visitor...

... That melts into one of utter surprise.

Dark turquoise hair and eyes deeper than the abyss, peering at him curiously.

"P-Professor?!"

He almost slams the door shut, back pressed against wood in a fright, the hair on his nape startling like a kitten. Why was the Professor here in the middle of the night? What did he do? He doesn't notice the creak of metal in his thoughts, hands clenching in a daze. There's a cursory hum behind the entrance to his sparse abode, and he can't tell if Byleth is amused or puzzled. 

"You broke another one, didn't you."  
"N-no! Yes! You just shocked me!"

The now-useless mangled clump of steel is tossed to the side. Damn. He really did just break another one. Byleth can only wait patiently, a tiny smile on their face as they hear him fumble. This seems a little familiar, with Manuela...

"Dimitri, if you're busy, I can leave you be. You're already dressed for bed."  
"Do not worry, Professor! I was wearing my bedclothes for efficiency. Have to train before bed too, you know!"  
"You'll get sweaty."  
"I was considering going for a swim!"  
"This late? The Monastery isn't near a lake, Dimitri. The fishkeeper would be angry if you went diving in the pond. You shouldn't sleep while you're all fatigued and sweaty."  
"T-that aside, Professor! Did you need something? I'll be right with you!" 

Smooth. Super smooth. Byleth casts a glance over him as he cracks open the door, revealing the young prince in a haphazard mess of his usual attire, after a suspicious amount of ruffling and mild curses. They notice that his shirt is one button off, his hair a mess of yellow unlike its almost ruler-straight appearance in the day. What a horrible, horrible liar, and they both knew it. They open their mouth, half considering turning to leave, but Dimitri peers in curiosity, if equally surprised at their presence entirely.

"I could just go, it's not importa--"  
"No! Professor, please. It's no trouble at all. What is it?"

He cuts them off before they can finish their objection. They observe him, appearance and all. Rush aside, he clearly should be getting more sleep. They see the dark circles barely illuminated under the moonlight. Haunted. Weighing the silence against their request; and Dimitri doesn't notice himself holding his breath until they accede. 

He really looks too hopeful to deny. 

Oh, but now that they actually walked all the way here, it sounds downright _embarrassing_ to admit this out loud.

"I... I would... Like you to..."  
"Hm? I beg your pardon?"  
"T-The Heron Ball."  
"What? I already agreed, Professor. Even if you have damned us all. For certain. On my unfortunate honor, I will not run from my duty."

He looks like a man ready for his death knell. They try not to let out a tiny snicker at his expense, even if his dread is wholly self-created by yours truly.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, I just wanted to see you socialize a little more with the other students. Besides, you probably have some experience, right?"  
"... More than I'd like to admit."  
"So you can teach me?"  
"Eh?"

If the professor looked anything close to bashful, it would be now, hands lightly crossed, eyes averted to the floor. He vows to scorch this into his memory. Dance? Why would they have to? It's hard to wrack his brain for an answer, put on the spot with his mind still a little addled. But the answer comes to him eventually.

"Ah. You haven't needed to."  
"Yes. Being a mercenary doesn't exactly need you to learn such things. It would be rude to say no if I was asked to, when everyone should be relaxing..."  
"Professor. If I may be blunt. You will be swallowed alive by the hordes that wish to dance with you."

They looks mildly surprised by that assessment, but spending much of his time with Dedue by his side allowed him much in the way of quiet conversation and observation... And so much more in the way of other Houses eyeing them. After all, how could they pass up an opportunity to ask anyone for a turn? The professor could be aloof at worst, sleepily oblivious at best, but they were attractive, charismatic when required, and very much desirable for the festivities.

Sylvain had wailed and proposed a 'Professor Protection Taskforce', him being at the forefront of it, and nearly roped a well-meaning Ashe into his enthusiasm to 'protect the Professor from insidious, lecherous fiends'. A motion very much veto'd by Felix, stating that 'the only lecherous guy we need to protect the Professor from is right here.'

The redhead did look a little hurt. For two seconds.

Not that the Professor couldn't suffer to protect themselves, but he digressed.

"Of course, Professor. Though I wouldn't say I'm the best partner..."  
"Should I ask Felix, Ingrid or Sylvain instead? If this is an inconvenience to you--"  
"No! I mean, n-no, absolutely not. I can handle this much. It's practice for the battlefield for me, too. Right. Yes."

Granted, perhaps either of his childhood friends were better. Maybe Felix would complain the entire time, but he wouldn't refuse. He simply had a good heart like that, underneath the pit viper vitriol. And Sylvain could be depended on when it counted, especially for such an earnest request. Impure thoughts or not.

But no, they rarely ever made requests. And Goddess be damned, he would honor anything they asked of him. He owed them that much.

"So, does that make you Professor Blaiddyd now?"  
"L-let's not jest that much, Professor... But you'll have to save a dance for me, as thanks."  
"Of course."

Byleth chuckles, and he thinks they sounds like passing windchimes. 

It's comfortable. For the both of them, at ease, outside of class hours. But they hold their hand out to him, and he takes it without question. The two of them certainly weren't going to dance right outside his room or inside it, though it was so sparse, they might as well have.

What a scandalous thought.

  


* * *

* * *

  


They lead him to the monastery, where the dull glow of candles illuminates the stained glass in the halls. In the day, it would be filled with monks and penitents. But at night, there's no one around but sleepless ghosts, half-whispered prayers and the echo of their heeled steps on marble. There's no fear of people. The scarce few that came here this late cared little about the affairs of others, hands clasped in prayer for solace that slumber would not bring them - something that both of them were familiar with, for better or for worse.

"It's very simple, really. There are more complicated dances, but for the Heron Ball, we use the box step."  
"Box... Step?"

They look excitable, eyes wide like an excited little fawn at the prospect of something new. It's strange to think of the mercenary world being completely devoid of noble influences, but that was what made them so different from each other. The warground was their field, and the academy was his step into theirs, even if he was pulled far into it before he was ready, nine years ago.

But is anyone truly ready for war?

"So, is it because your steps are in a box shape?"

Byleth's voice shakes him out of his introspective thoughts, for the nonce. He had to stay in the moment, not in the past, he reminds himself. Dimitri forces himself to nod.

"Something like that, yes. There's two different sequences, but I'll lead, first. You can follow me. Just try to match my steps with yours for now."

Dimitri raises his arms in a mock hug, and they return the gesture, linking their hands with no small amount of enthusiastic bravado. The Professor looks wholly concentrated, but he can't help but notice how close they are. Hands clasped in his, earnestly awaiting direction as he places his on the small of their back. It feels a little strange that their roles are reversed, but he seems to be the only one feeling like his face was going to blaze up. Damn his teacher's constant poker face, sometimes. He thanks the Goddess that the light through the stained glass is relatively dim to hide it. 

"Okay. I will lead with my right foot. You will be taking a step back, with your left."  
"L-like this?"  
"Smaller strides, Professor. The waltz is all about being considerate to your partner, leg length included."  
"You aren't a slouch in the height department either, Dimitri..."

One step forward, one step back. Draw your right foot to the left, to the side, legs slide closed - and your partner returns inverse. It is slow going, but he is nothing but patient with his Professor. Their face scrunched up in a mild frown, staring down at the floor to observe their movements. Byleth almost always looked impassive, but he can't help and find them cute-- oh god, no, bad thoughts.

"Did the floor offend Jeralt? You are staring daggers into it."  
"It might as well have- Oh, I'm sorry, I stepped on your foot again-"  
"No worries. Back from the top to the beat: one, two, three..."

It is an awkward effort. Byleth tries, sliding their foot to the uneven rhythm, trying to get used to the tempo. Their partner is steady like a rock, takes slower steps to accommodate, but they could start to see the difficulty while constantly changing partners during the Ball itself. A give and take in each step. Now, if they could just stop stepping on Dimitri's feet--

"Professor. My eyes are up here."  
"Oh, yes, I have to look at you the entire way? Goddess..."  
"If I may, it is extremely relieving to find something you're not immediately good at. You are always so succinctly perfect with your explanations during our lessons, despite never having been in that discipline ever."  
"It takes too many lifetimes to study everything! But instruction works!"

Byleth hears the soft, mocking chime of Sothis's laugh in the back of their head with their indignant retort. It was not as if guiding students with absolutely no proficiency in the task was ideal, but at the very least, books, manuals and strategy books could fill the space that experience did not. 

"All of you make this look easier than really it is..."  
"Grace can be practiced, Professor. Let's try again."

From the top, they start over. Of course, Byleth is a quick study. Their tempo gets faster, enjoying slow rotations on marble floor. There is no music aside from the echo of their steps and Dimitri's soft counting, but there is more confidence in their steps, setting a comfortable pace.

The prince then decides to throw in a little twist. 

Byleth is still counting numbers in their head, keeping their eyes on their partner, but not quite paying attention. Seeing but not present. Dimitri smirks, they can only widen their eyes a little before the prince dips them down low, a smile on his lips.

... Except they lose their balance entirely.

Even with his infamous strength, it takes both of them by surprise. Instinct dictates that he would drop his partner, but Dimitri would never do that. Both of them end up pulled to the floor, tumbling with a loud clatter of clothes and fabric.

It's a fearsome din in the dead of the night. Realizing that he's fallen on top of them, the blonde has a thousand and one apologies on the tip of his tongue. Even if his hands instinctively raised to cushion the fall of their head on the ground, he was horrified.

"Oh, Goddess. I'm sorry, Professor, are you al--"

All words dry up in his throat when he looks up, and Byleth's face is inches from his. On their part, they still look surprised, blue eyes bigger than the owls. Much less could he said for him, burning up hotter than one of Ashe and Mercedes' cooking experiments. Up close, he could see the minute flecks of cyan green in their gaze. 

It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. It's utterly mortifying.

He crawls back up onto his feet with figurative kettle fumes blowing out of his ears, any eloquence he had thrown out of the window as he splutters in unabashed shame. If the Goddess could take him right now, right on the spot, that would have been ideal. I'm so sorry, I didn't think we'd really fall over, please accept my apologies--

All of that ends with a single finger pressed to his lips, stopping him in his tracks. 

"It's fine, Dimitri. Accidents happen. Besides, this is practice for you too."

He catches the wryest of smiles in their expression, the way their eyes soften just a little. Forgiveness comes so easily to them, he almost envies it. Were he able to say the same.

But still, Byleth gets into position again, gamely raising their arms again in invitation.

"Mistakes are fine. So long as we are learning, all is well. What else is there?"

Dimitri has to spend a few seconds collecting himself first. Pinching the bridge of his nose none too gently, trying to banish the damnable haze of scarlet from his cheeks. And his ears too, no doubt. His heart is thundering in his chest, erratic. But there was something inherently wrong with that embrace. What was it? 

Byleth, ever the paragon, does not comment. He brushes off the thought, for now.

"N-Now, we'll get into the schematics of the footwork."  
"What-- That wasn't it?"  
"No? Whether you land on your heel or on your toes for each step is important, too. You will always land on your toes, unless you are shifting to another position."

The sheer bewilderment on their face is _adorable_.

"Oh, my dear Professor. If you ever wondered why nobles took hundreds of bells-worth of etiquette lessons, this is one of them."  
"You cannot be serious."  
"We have yet to start going in a natural box, Professor. We sometimes go anti-clockwise, too. And then, you'll have to learn my steps, next. I'm sure students would prefer our capable, wonderful Professor to lead them instead. That is the bare minimum."

The loud groan that emits out of his Professor is clearly one that almost regrets their entire decision at learning in the first place, but their dear Professor is not a quitter. Never was, never will be.

When he returns to his own dormitory later, Dimitri smiles at the promise of the next night's meeting. They had to stop on the pretext of morning lessons and an attempt at getting _some_ sleep, but he finds himself very much looking forward to the next session tomorrow.

For a mercy, his troubled dreams are devoid of the dozens of specters that haunt him, for tonight and thereafter.

  


* * *

* * *

  


"The Professor isn't _just_ a fishing maniac anymore, Felix! They're gonna fish all the hotties in the Ball!!"  
"Tch- that's not my problem anyway-- Stop hanging off me! I need to train!"  
"Feeeelix! This is my love life at stake!"  
"Like I care! Go shag an owl! You can't tell the difference anyway!"

Dimitri tunes out the lively banter of his childhood friends, as abrasive as always. Sylvain had essentially grappled onto the annoyed duke-to-be the moment they had returned, promising brimstone and hellfire in his immediate future. They had happened upon Byleth humming to themselves while in the middle of running errands. The thought of the Professor mock-dancing in their own quarters is just another mark of their unusual dedication at not embarrassing themselves or the entire house, but Sylvain can only mourn his chances.

"I will fish for whatever I want, Sylvain."

The deadpan voice of their Professor comes with a cursory smack of a book on the flirty Lion's head, who barely winces with a pause as he continues his complaining, indignant and slighted.

"Ow- Prof! You gotta at least give us a chance! Not that I think I can't put out against you, but damn! I didn't need _you_ as competition!"  
"An absolute tragedy. Completely insurmountable. Felix, at least _try_ on the assignment."  
"I don't _need_ to learn magic..."

Scorching sympathy. Byleth takes another few moments to chide the grumbling swordsman into a more productive mood, checking his own work, before sliding a small piece of note underneath the book.

_See you again tonight._

Dimitri can't hide the smile that creeps up on his face, watching the Professor continue their lecture as they continue walking through the aisles of students. His eyes linger for a few more moments, before he returns back to Fodlan by the table. 

Only to be met by one half-amused snort, and one dumbfounded, betrayed glare.

The two Lions didn't need to read the note to know exactly what was on it.

"Ha. So there's your culprit. The _glorious_ pegasus-shit stirrer."  
"It's... it's you. Of course it's you. YOU'RE THE ONE TEACHING THE PROFESSOR HOW TO GET ALL THE BABES! DIMITRI!!"

Class was chaotic for that day, inbetween the scandalous yells of the Gautier heir, much swearing, and the Lions' clamors at securing a dance with their house leader - much to the chagrin of all the other students involved. 

They'll just have to wait in line. A very, very long line.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a self-insert gender fiction, so I hope it at least half-passes. (´・ω・`)  
Special thanks to @constellicon for their help on the pronoun situation.


End file.
